I'm Losing Her, but I'm Gaining Something Else
by Glitterycake
Summary: Nate has a revelation and can't wait to share it with the two people involved in it. Chuck/Blair. Based on spoilers including picture spoilers for the last few episodes of Season 2. Don't read if you don't like spoilers.


**Author's Notes: **_This is a Chuck/Blair one-shot from multiple points of view and reveals many details about spoilers that surfaced recently. Please do not read if you don't want upcoming episodes to be spoiled._

_Additionally, please know that this is only my speculation on what is happening in those photos. I don't know if this is going to happen, but it was pretty fun to write about. If you would like to review, please do - I appreciate every review and I will usually reply personally to each - but as always, I write when I am inspired and it's not dependent on reviews.  
_

_I don't own Gossip Girl, because if I did, I would be telling you that this is exactly what happens. And it's not. We're clear on that, right?_

**I'm Losing Her, but I'm Gaining Something Else**

Nate Archibald was never really familiar with the concept of losing. Nate and losing were _very_ casual acquaintances.

On the very few occasions he had lost something (a poker game, a girlfriend, a best friend), it really hadn't made him feel all that wonderful about himself. But this wasn't him throwing in the towel, he reminded himself. This _wasn't _him failing at something. This was about letting something go so that both he, and it, could improve their lives. He had reached this revelation in the wee hours of the morning (between one and two A. M.).

The revelation had ensured that Nate had not slept a wink all night. He paced his bedroom in anticipation and frustration between the hours of three and four A. M., had settled at his desk to write a speech between four and five A. M., made himself read the first five chapters of _Twilight_ between five and six A. M. (Vanessa's copy, which he had stolen from her apartment the last time they were there together and had yet to return), and regretted having read anything to do with the entire _Twilight_ franchise between six and seven A. M.

Somewhere between seven and eight A. M., he could stand it no longer. He put on a coat (having dressed between two and three A. M.) and ran down the stairs and out the door onto the sidewalk, waving a hand in the air frantically and yelling "TAXI!" A cab cruised gently to a stop beside Nate and he got inside, telling the driver "Take me to the Palace, please."

He put a twenty in the cab driver's hand and got out of the car, walking through the doors of the New York Palace Hotel. He showed himself to the elevator bank, and answered "The Van der Woodsen penthouse" when asked by the operator. The doors closed and the elevator rose swiftly upward.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for Nate.

Eventually, the elevator stopped at the top floor and he got out, squaring his shoulders and mentally rehearsing his speech in his head. He took the stairs to the next floor, pausing at the end of the corridor leading to two bedrooms. He veered off to the left and raised his fist to knock on the door.

The occupant of the room rolled off the bed, stumbled to their feet and went to answer the door, cursing the early-morning interruption.

The door opened, its hinges squealing, and a bleary-eyed Chuck Bass stood clutching the door handle and staring right through Nate. Chuck blinked, rubbed his hand over his eyes, and opened them again, his mouth curling into a snarl. Nate held his ground; he had expected this.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here? You think I _want_ to see _you_?" Chuck growled at Nate.

"I know for a fact that you don't want to see me," Nate responded.

"You're right. I don't. Go to hell," Chuck snapped, starting to close the door on Nate. Nate reached out and grabbed the side of the door, stopping Chuck from closing it.

"I see you're not all that attached to your fingers. You're probably only about as attached to them as you are to Blair, huh?" Chuck spat.

"Hey, man, tell me how you really feel," Nate said, trying to conceal the look of amusement currently attempting to spread across his face. He lost the battle.

Chuck caught the change in Nate's stoic expression. His snarl turned to full-blown anger and he snapped, "Do you actually think this is _funny_?"

"Yeah," Nate replied, "I do."

"How the hell is this _funny_?" Chuck nearly shouted at Nate, "How is what you're doing to Blair funny?"

"Excuse me? What _I'm_ doing to Blair?" Nate snapped back, the amusement fading from his face. "What exactly am I doing to Blair, Chuck?"

Chuck had a whole list of things, but in the face of being asked such a simple question, he couldn't remember why his answers were justified. "It – you – using her – your grandfather – you don't even – Vanessa – _you know_, damn it!" he finally managed to splutter, "You _know_!"

Nate controlled his expression carefully. Damned if he was going to lose at anything else. His face would not win out! It would _not_!

"Once more, with punctuation and actual sentence structure," he responded calmly to Chuck's infuriated diatribe. Chuck swallowed and tried to count to ten very stoically before answering his _former_ friend.

"You know what I mean," Chuck began, "You know what I mean and you're insulting everyone's intelligence here if you say you don't."

"The trouble is, Chuck, nobody knows what you mean."

"What the hell?" Chuck spat, "Everyone knows! _You _know! It's why you're here!"

"Actually, Chuck, in your rush to accuse me of having only horrible intentions towards anyone, you forgot to let me answer your first question. Don't you know that it's rude to interrupt people?" Nate chided his best friend, enjoying the dark look of confusion that floated across Chuck's face. It was kind of fun playing the schemer for once, and being so aware of how your actions could manipulate those of others.

"Oh, that's right. Yeah: what the _hell_ are _you_ doing _here_?" Chuck enunciated carefully, glaring at Nate. "I'm sure I didn't give the impression you were at all welcome."

'I'm here because I'm your best friend."

"Yeah, but no, that's not going to work for me. See, a best friend wouldn't – "

"Correction: I may not be your best friend _now_, but I'm going to be... when you finally let me freaking well explain why I'm here."

"When are you going to get it? We are not friends anymore," Chuck snarled, "I don't want you as my friend."

Nate played his trump card. "Maybe not, but I know what you _do_ want."

"If your guess is 'for you to get the hell out of my face', well, ring-a-ding-ding, we have a winner! Congratulations, Nathaniel."

"It begins with a 'B' and rhymes with éclair," Nate finished calmly. Chuck's angry, glowering expression settled into a look befitting a frightened rabbit. "_Now_ are you with me?"

Chuck swallowed. "Come on in." As he turned away and stepped aside to let Nate inside the room, Nate allowed a small triumphant smirk to cross his features. He followed Chuck inside and sat down on the recliner.

Chuck pulled his desk chair out, turned it around so that the backrest faced Nate, and sat down, his arms crossed on top of the backrest, glaring at Nate.

"So let's say, hypothetically – I want Blair," Chuck started, "but note that this is _only_ hypothetical. How exactly does that involve you? More to the point, who the hell do you _think_ you are?"

Nate had his response ready. "I'm Nathaniel Archibald, and Blair Waldorf is currently _my_ girlfriend."

"_Your_ girlfriend who threw herself at _me_ a couple of weeks ago, moaning 'Take me _now_'," Chuck smirked, enjoying the look of dismay on Nate's face.

"Well, did you? 'Take her now'?" Nate asked, drawing little quotation marks with his fingers. Chuck shook his head. "Why not?"

"She's yours," Chuck responded shortly. "And she's a mess. She's shoplifting and losing Yale and kissing Carter effing Baizen and – well, actually, she kissed Carter in front of me and then she kissed me and – how the hell did you not know your _girlfriend _was a mess? Are you just destined to fail as her boyfriend?"

"At least _I_ didn't fail five minutes before I was meant to go to Tuscany with her," Nate shot back, "And first of all, what did punctuation ever do to you that you don't like using it? Second of all, she's stopped all that... stuff, because I'm with her now. And third of all – why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"Because, Nathaniel, _I don't like you_."

"Blair and I are not supposed to be together. Ever again," Nate finally said.

"Well, snaps for you, Archibald! You've finally entertained an independent thought! But I don't care what you do with it or what it means to you."

"Would you care more if I said that the reason Blair and I are not supposed to be together is that person sitting in your chair right now?" Nate asked Chuck, quietly and calmly. No anger, no emotion. Just complete detachment.

"Why do you care?" Chuck finally answered.

"I want her to be happy. No, don't laugh at that – she's my friend, and I want her to have a good life."

"_Friend_? Blair's your friend now?"

"Yes. She is. And as a girlfriend, she served her purpose, which was to secure an alliance between my family and the Vanderbilts. She also served her purpose in helping me figure out what _I_ really want."

"Nobody knows what the hell you want, Nathaniel!" Chuck exploded.

"But knowing what I _don't_ want is a good start. And, while Blair – who is my _friend_ – is great, I don't want her. Maybe I never did. That took me a long time to work out _for myself_. When you have people telling you what you want, you figure it's a good idea to maybe just go with what they say, Chuck. But I want life on my own terms. Blair helped me secure my family's future and she knows how important that is to me. That's what a friend does. They support you with what's important to you."

"When you reach an actual point, let me know. I'm going back to sleep," Chuck drawled lazily.

"I also know what you want. And I know what Blair wants."

"Blair wants to be excruciatingly thin, raise two neurotically perfect children, go to Yale and graduate summa cum laude, have the Botox needle make tender, passionate love to her imaginary wrinkles, subsist on Prozac and attend charity galas with her neurotically perfect husband for the rest of her life. Why are you telling me this?"

"Blair wants you."

The smirk dropped off Chuck's face.

"Blair loves you."

"I'm sure she does," Chuck answered, his tone one of carefully practised boredom.

"I know she does."

"And how would you know that?"

"Give up on the act, Chuck, I know you love her too. And I'm not going to argue with it. I suggest you don't either."

"I suggest you stay the hell out of this, Nathaniel."

"Suggest all you want, but you now officially have plans for the day. I'm meeting Blair in an hour for breakfast, and then we're going to take a leisurely walk. You, of course, know where her favourite cafe is, because you two just know each other _so_ well. I'd tell you what I've got planned for breakfast, but I think you can guess."

Chuck's jaw dropped open. "You planned all this – when?"

"I think I pretty much look like hell. Can't you tell I didn't sleep last night?"

"Were you actually awake, _plotting_? Nathaniel, I'm shocked."

"Don't screw this up, Chuck."

"Oh, I think it's pretty much a given that I will," Chuck responded.

"Is Blair important to you?"

"Uh – yes?" Chuck ventured. Nate fixed one eye on him. "Yes, she is," Chuck admitted. "Now go. I have some errands to run."

"Thought so," Nate said, clapping Chuck on the shoulder. "Time to do the switcheroo."

Chuck blanched. "Do not say the word 'switcheroo' ever again. Please and thank you. Go away."

"You're welcome, Chuck," Nate answered cheerfully as he left Chuck alone in his room to contemplate the massive moments ahead of him. As he shut the door behind him, he heard Chuck barking into his phone, "Get the limo ready! No, I don't _care_ if you're not awake! NOW!" He stifled a fit of laughter and slipped out of the van der Woodsen penthouse, the rest of the household sleepily unaware that he had just changed the future.

Blair Waldorf slipped her arms through the sleeves of her new grass-green, luxuriously soft trench coat, buttoned it up, tied the belt around her waist, and stepped into vibrantly yellow patent heels. She picked up a handbag, strode over to the mirror, and inspected her appearance. She was having breakfast with her on-again off-again (currently on-again) boyfriend, Nate Archibald, this morning, and rehearsing a speech in her head.

_Nate. The last couple of weeks have been a real journey of self-discovery for me. And you're just so important to me that it hurts to do this, it really does, but you're part of my past, and Chuck –_

"Chuck?" Blair snorted aloud, "What future? What future do I have with Chuck?"

_Chuck is my future, and – _

_I very much want to – _

_I desperately want to be with – _

_I love him._

Well, she had the first part of her break-up speech.

She picked up the phone, called for a Town Car, and went downstairs to the lobby to meet it – and her future, which, at the moment, looked murky.

Nate sat inside Blair's favourite cafe, waiting for the fashionably late Queen B to make her appearance. He'd already finished one cup of black coffee while waiting. She breezed in, in a cloud of Dior perfume, and reached down to hug him, dropping her bag on the chair opposite him and noting the presence of a steaming hot non-fat latte.

"How are you today, sweetie?" she cooed, kissing him on the cheek. "Oh, you remembered my order. You're such a great friend."

"I'm great. Listen, Blair –" the beginning of his soliloquy was interrupted as his phone buzzed.

_She was late, wasn't she? My limo's just pulled up outside. Got my heart in one hand and flowers in the other._

"Sorry, Blair, I just have to reply to this," Nate said, noting the look of disinterest in her eyes.

"What? Oh – fine," she answered vaguely, looking out the window.

_Reverse back a little further, man! I can see your limo from here! _Nate typed frantically.

Bzzzzzzzt.

_Done. Can you two hurry it up in there, I'm losing my nerve._

_Break-up commences in 3... 2... 1..._

Bzzzzzzzt.

_Thank God for that!_

"Listen, Blair," Nate began again, taking his hand in hers. "I really just wanted to thank you for helping me to get my grandfather and the rest of the Vanderbilts off my family's back. You've been such a help to me these last few weeks, and we certainly have something worth retaining as a great friendship, but..."

"It's not working out, is it?" Blair interrupted quietly.

"No, it's not," Nate answered. "Does it bother you?"

"Frankly, no, it doesn't. You're a great person, Nate, and you'll be a great friend, but... we're not meant to be together."

"We're not, are we?"

"Were we ever?" Blair mused, sipping her latte.

"Once, maybe, when we believed everything we were told about life, and when we believed that nobody but our parents could know more about our future than us ourselves."

"Nathaniel Archibald, that was strangely profound," Blair responded, smiling gently at Nate. She finished her latte.

"Friends?" Nate offered.

Blair nodded. "That'd be nice."

"Do you want to go for a walk... friend?"

"Why not?" Blair answered, getting up from the table. Nate dropped a ten on the table to pay for the drinks. Blair put three dollar bills on her side of the table. When Nate reached out to stop her, she smiled and said, "Friends go Dutch." They left the money on their respective sides of the table and headed out into the New York street.

_**Gossip Girl E-Blast:**_

_Spotted: Blair Waldorf and Nate Archibald, having a serious discussion over coffee. Whatever agreement they reached seems to have pleased them both. And what's this? B paid for her own non-fat latte? I guess this wasn't a date, kids!_

_You know you love me,_

_XOXO, Gossip Girl._

"So, this could really be nice for both of us," Blair said, walking alongside Nate. "Not to mention functional."

"Blair... can I... it doesn't feel right if I don't kiss you one last time," Nate confessed.

Blair nodded. "Fair enough." She stepped up to him and raised her face to his, and he kissed her gently. Over her shoulder, he gesticulated frantically at Chuck, who was standing beside his limo, a bouquet of pink roses in his hand, and a stack of at least three gaily wrapped gifts placed atop the car's roof.

Chuck nodded and smiled at his newly reinstated best friend, and then proceeded to slice his finger across his throat warningly, mouthing, "That's enough!"

Nate raised his head and Blair stepped back. "What are you looking at, Nate? Do I have a milk moustache or something?"

Nate shook his head, took Blair gently by the shoulders, and turned her around to face the same direction as him. Her eyes confusedly roamed the immediate landscape until they landed on Chuck, casually posed leaning against his limo and staring right at Blair. Blair turned back to Nate, her eyes question marks.

"Go on," Nate said, giving her a little push.

"You did this?" Blair gaped at him.

"I started it. Now go over there and finish it. Go on!" Blair turned away from him slowly, fixing her eyes on Chuck.

"Why are you not moving?" Nate hissed.

"He can come and get me," Blair replied. Nate rolled his eyes and turned away to avoid the nauseating scene he was fairly certain was about to ensue.

"Why don't you both meet in the middle this time?" Nate suggested, noticing that during this entire whispered exchange she had not taken her eyes off of Chuck.

Without preamble, Blair started walking, wobbling a little in her high heels, and at the same time, Chuck began striding toward her.

Nate thought that now would be the time to make a graceful exit.

Chuck and Blair finally reached one another. It had only been a few steps between them, but this was it. Whatever happened next was going to change everything, for better or for worse.

Chuck held out the flowers to Blair. "Good morning," she responded, taking them. Chuck opened his mouth, and Blair expected him to say "good morning" right back to her.

But he didn't.

"I love you."

Blair's mouth dropped open. Chuck stepped up to her, tipped her face with gentle fingers and kissed her. She responded fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck as he clutched her as close to him as he possibly could.

When the kiss broke, Chuck led Blair over to the limo and the pile of presents that sat on top of it.

"What are all these for?" Blair wondered aloud.

"I missed three things in your life this year, Blair. I didn't want to leave the occasions so unmarked." He handed her the first present.

"But there are four presents there," Blair protested. "What's the fourth?"

"This is for your eighteenth birthday," Chuck barrelled on, ignoring her question. Blair turned the gift over and over in her hands, as if it might bite her.

"Well? Aren't you going to open it?" Chuck asked nervously. Blair shook her head.

Bemused, Chuck handed her the next gift. "This is for getting into Yale."

"But I'm not –", Blair argued. Chuck handed her the third gift.

"This is a consolation because, just for now, you're not." Blair held the third gift gingerly in her nearly full hands.

"What's the fourth gift?" Chuck tried to hand it to her, but she waved it off.

"I've only got the hands God gave me, Chuck!"

"Okay, here, let me hold them for you. You want to open this one, trust me." Blair fixed Chuck with a confused stare and handed the gifts back to him. She tore eagerly at the wrapping of the fourth package to find...

A sweater in a box.

"You... bought me a sweater." Blair tried not to feel disappointed; not all of his gifts could be thirty-odd-grand necklaces, after all.

"Well, it's not _just_ a sweater. It's cashmere. Look, feel how soft it is." Blair stroked the right sleeve of the sweater until she felt something hard pinned to the soft wool. She felt around in the sleeve, where a pin affixed an object to the wool. Blair unsnapped the safety pin and a small object rolled off it and into her open palm. She looked up at Chuck, her eyes seeking answers. "It's not... this isn't..."

"No, it's not. Not yet. I thought I'd call it a 'someday' ring."

"I'll... let you know when 'someday' arrives," Blair answered, a bit overwhelmed. "But, wait – I thought you wanted me to stop trying to 'play the wife'."

Chuck cringed, but he had an answer ready. "On the contrary, Waldorf, I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Blair smiled at him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Chuck ventured hesitantly.

"Yes, you are... but if you ever pull that again..."

"I promise I won't. I want three things in the world: my father's company to do well under my direction, two children plus a dog, and to be in love with you for the rest of my life. Not necessarily in that order."

As one, they reached for the other and tangled themselves into a warm, soft embrace, kissing, feeling as though the world had stopped around them.

When they broke apart again, Blair had an idea.

"Does this limo stop at the Waldorf penthouse, by any chance?"

"It stops anywhere you want it to, Blair."

"Take us home," Blair commanded the driver, settling back into Chuck's arms. They sat quietly through the trip, talking softly, kissing, hugging one another, just _being_.

Chuck and Blair. Blair and Chuck.

"We're here," the driver announced. They tumbled out of the limo with the load of Blair's presents shared between them, and took the elevator up to the penthouse, holding hands the whole time.

"You wait here," Blair said, motioning for him to take a seat in the lounge room. "I won't be long."

She emerged presently from upstairs, her fist closed around a small object, which she slipped into her coat pocket.

"Where's my ring?" she asked Chuck. He pulled the box from his pocket.

"Do you – want me to put it on you?" Chuck asked her, drawing the ring from the slit in the middle of the white velvet cushion. "I got it so it would fit the finger with the ruby ring –"

Blair took off the ruby ring and tossed it away. "That was from Nate. This is from you." She extended her hand to Chuck, and he slipped the gold ring with its three heart-shaped diamonds onto her finger.

She dropped her hand into her pocket and drew out the object she had been carrying earlier.

"What's – " Chuck's words died on his lips as the object was revealed.

"Your ring on my finger," she began.

She took his sweater sleeve into her fingers and attached the pin to the soft wool.

"And my heart on your sleeve."

Chuck gazed down in wonderment at the pin clinging to his sweater sleeve.

"I love you, too," Blair finished.

And so it came to pass that Chuck and Blair as a couple were simultaneously frustratingly dysfunctional and head-over-heels in love with one another, but Nate Archibald didn't regret getting them together for a second, because something bigger than losing Blair came out of it.

He gained her as a friend.

For the first time, he gained freedom for himself.


End file.
